How to Date George Weasley
by worldsapart
Summary: Alicia must find George a wife or risk losing everything. He intends to plague the Ministry by taking free dates he never means to consider. Some bad dates have them wondering if someone wants George dead, and if the real match was there all along. No DH.
1. A New Client

A/N: This is a companion to my story _Not As Expected_. While reading that story is encouraged, it is not required. They should be able to stand alone.

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Chapter One

A New Client

_**Congratulations! If you are reading this pamphlet, you have successfully completed all your testing and are now an official Ministry-approved participant in the wizarding world's first government-sponsored matchmaking service. Our population has suffered grave losses at the hands of now-vanquished dark forces, but there is no cause for despair! We will flourish yet again using the only tried and true method, found to be 99.8 percent effective in clinical tests—Love.**_

**XOXO**

Alicia Spinnet read the introductory paragraph a third time and was satisfied that the content would pass her supervisor's inspection. How her position in the Department of Witch and Wizard Services had turned into _this_ she wasn't exactly sure. For one thing, the idea of working on weekends (and every other day, for that matter) had never appealed to her. It was time better spent playing Quidditch or rereading her favourite novels. But she certainly hadn't objected to the pay raise or the nice new office, and the health benefits were helpful as well, so she took the long hours without much complaint. The ridiculous pamphlets, however….

She flicked her wand and a large pile of the horrid things that had been threatening to topple straightened itself into a neat stack once again. She sighed. Her nice new desk was covered in the things. She was really beginning to regret the first day she had ever gloated about being a master of drumming up glorious bullshit for the printed page. The ability to ace a Potions essay with practically no research was one thing; being required to rewrite countless brochures so that they would glorify a program that practically forced young witches and wizards into marriage…well, that was another thing entirely.

No, "forced" was rather strong, she decided, picking up her quill and dipping it into her inkbottle once again. As long as the Ministry knew you were _looking_ for a mate, they left you alone. For now.

Alicia played with the feather end of her quill, seeking inspiration for her next few sentences of hippogriff dung when there was a knock at her office door. Her immediate supervisor, Brantley Edgarton, walked in without waiting for an invitation and stood directly in front of her across the desk. She had found that two guest chairs were actually quite comfortable, but he didn't sit.

"Miss Spinnet, I have a new assignment for you," he said without preamble. It was bad enough that he was there to bother her on a Sunday, but the fact that he also had more work put him even higher on her list of annoyances.

"You mean I—" She held up a pamphlet, hoping desperately that he'd at least pull her off of that project.

"No, you will still need to compose the last of those. You have such a knack for it," he said dryly. "And create a template for the other matchmakers to use, of course. But I'm actually here to discuss your newest client."

Alicia took a deep breath. She hated writing the Ministry's propaganda pieces, but they didn't scare her like matching did. She'd gotten lucky so far; her clients had all been eager to be paired off. But what happened when her luck ran out? She needed this job. Without it, her prospects in the wizarding world were slim. She couldn't afford to lose it over some hormonal, thrill seeking….

A file folder landed on the desk in front of her. Slowly, she opened the front cover to see a large picture of _George Weasley_ staring back at her. The George in the picture winked slyly at her, and she caught herself before the laugh could escape from her lips. Instead, she closed the folder and held it back out to Brantley. "I can't do it."

Brantley raised an eyebrow but didn't take the folder. "Mr. Weasley is our number one most eligible candidate at the moment. He's the next best thing to nabbing Harry Potter himself. You have to take it."

"You don't understand," said Alicia calmly, locking eyes with her boss. "I _know_ George. Even dated him briefly when we were at Hogwarts together."

"You still have feelings for him? Is that why you can't take Mr. Weasley's case?"

Alicia's snort of laughter took the man by surprise, and his shock only made her laugh more. It was a full thirty seconds before she could compose herself enough to speak again. "I can't take _Mr. Weasley's_ case because I couldn't knowingly subject any poor witch to dating him."

"Well, I'm afraid you're all we've got, Miss Spinnet," he said, opening up the folder. He began tossing papers unceremoniously onto her desk. He threw out a description as each hit the surface. "Too vain. Not pretty enough. No fun." He closed the folder once again and set the whole thing in front of her. "Let's just say Mr. Weasley has proven _difficult_ to match. The program directors feel you are ready to truly prove your worth to the department. Consider this your career's make or break case."

Before she could even form another protest, Brantley ended the conversation with a curt nod and left. Alicia stared after him, her mouth hanging slightly open. George Weasley? It'd be easier than matching Fred—if there were ever a man doomed to bachelorhood, it was he—but neither of them had really seemed the "settling down" type. Sure, she hadn't really seen much of them since the war; there was the occasional visit to their shop to pick up a little something for her nephew, but even then she usually got little more than a glimpse of the busy brothers. Things could have changed, but she doubted it.

As much as this project scared her, Alicia also felt a familiar sense of confidence building in her chest as she considered her game plan. She was a professional. A year ago that thought would have been completely ridiculous to her. After all, how many people could say their careers consisted almost solely of trying to convince witches and wizards they were made for one another? Of following her prospects' daily lives, studying and making suggestions, creating an easy how-to list for their perspective matches?

But now they were handing her a challenging case because they thought she could handle it. And Merlin be damned if she was going to let a little thing like George Weasley stand in her way. In fact, she couldn't wait to tell Angelina about this bit of luck. Her job might turn out to be fun after all…. Whatever he could dish out, she could return tenfold.

_Difficult_, huh? By the time she was done with him, every witch in Britain and continental Europe would know just how to date George Weasley!

Half an hour later, a large barn owl flew into Alicia's office, flapping its enormous wings and scattering every single piece of parchment on her desk to the floor before it finally landed. Scowling, she took the owl's note and watched helplessly has the papers swirled even farther in the wake of the bird leaving. She opened her message:

_Miss Spinnet,_

_Please immediately note, your new client will have a previously arranged potential match awaiting him at the Faded Rose Cantina this evening, further details provided in the file I gave you. Your attendance will be required._

_Sincerely,_

_B. Edgarton_

_Bollocks_, she thought. She had a hell of a lot to do if she was going to make it to a date tonight.

**XOXO**

_Bollocks_, thought George as he smoothed the shoulders of his best robes. His hair was tousled and untidy, his chin covered in uneven patches of day old stubble, and his breath probably still rank from the garlic-heavy leftover pasta his mother had practically force fed him before allowing him to leave. He'd already spent the last five minutes searching for the proper attire, and now he had no more time remaining to take care of the other little things he usually did before a date.

He had the sudden strong desire to strangle his twin for outing him. The night had been an intense one for certain—Hermione's reaction to and handling of the impending Muggle-born Registration Law was nothing short of stressful on everyone present at the Burrow—but through it all, his mother had somehow still latched onto the information that one of her sons was using the Ministry's dating service as his own personal playground. He wasn't a bit ashamed of his actions, but he really did like to avoid her lectures whenever possible. He had intended to give her a few days before even setting foot in the house again, but his and Fred's stomachs had thwarted that plan. And the food _had_ almost been worth his mother's speech.

"I'm off!" he called.

Fred grunted some sort of answer, but George had already turned on his heel before he could attempt to draw understanding from it. The white brick façade of the Faded Rose Cantina popped into this view, and he smiled. Of all the places his handlers ever chose for dates, this one was his favourite. It didn't exactly make the dates any more memorable—Merlin knew there had been very few worth remembering—but the atmosphere was quite enjoyable. He thought maybe one day he'd like to have a real date there, the kind he would actually want memorialised in the cheesy, pseudo-romantic snapshots the waiters offered to all the patron couples.

He was right on time, but as he walked in and scanned the dining room, he didn't see Miranda anywhere. She had been the most enthusiastic of his matchmakers so far, and that was saying something, as he'd had many. He had actually begun to like her, if he was truthful with himself. Certainly not the brightest witch he'd ever met, but there was a genuine niceness about her that made it difficult to despise her, despite her choice of vocation. Had he scared her away already?

A tiny wave of guilt passed over him before he pushed it away. Wasn't that half the point? She was a Ministry employee, helping perpetuate a broken system by working for them. George knew he wasn't up to the kind of subterfuge people like Remus and his brothers got up to, but this—this was something he felt he understood. With a little mental shrug, he strode up to the host stand. Just doing his part to effect change.

"Welcome back, Mr. Weasley," said the maitre d', immediately gesturing toward the dining room. "We have placed your date at your preferred table. Do you have any special needs this evening?"

George shook his head as they wove their way through the tables, still full of fellow patrons even at the late hour. "What do you think of her, Lawrence?"

The host paused for just a moment to grin at him. "This one's very pretty, sir."

They rounded the corner, and as his usual spot came into view, he saw exactly what the other man was talking about. His date stood out, even in the crowded room. Her hair was sleek and black, and fell into her eyes just enough to entice a man to brush it away for her. Her dress was red, made with the type of material that clung to the body in all the right places without being overly provocative. She showed just enough leg and cleavage to still leave plenty up the imagination. She wasn't just pretty; she was absolutely stunning.

She stood as he approached and looked up him up and down appreciatively. Her voice was practically a purr when she said, "I've so looked forward to meeting you. My name is Joelle."

"Pleased to meet you, Joelle. I'm George." He kissed her hand, and the twinkle in her eyes let him know this was exactly what she expected.

They sat down in the booth, and she slid around the semi-circular seat just far enough that he could see a tanned section of her leg peaking from under her skirt, but not so far that it appeared they were intimate with one another. There was already a glass of wine sitting in front of her, mostly empty, and another full one waiting for him. He wondered how long she'd been sitting here waiting for him. Certainly long enough to have it all planned out. He made a mental note not to touch the wine or the breadsticks that were also waiting for him. He was suddenly very glad he'd given in to his mother's cooking.

Because his date was damn good, but he was better.

**XOXO**

Alicia watched from the table in the corner as the leggy, dark-haired girl fidgeted in her seat for the thousandth time in the last second. The poor girl had been waiting there when Alicia arrived a full half-hour before the date was scheduled, no doubt letting nervousness get the better of her. Though why a girl who looked like that would be nervous, she didn't know. She doubted this was the sort of witch who would have to use the Ministry as a way to free date, as she suspected George was probably doing. She should have had wizards lined up around the corner to take her out.

The file Brantley had given her didn't give much more insight into the situation. In fact, it didn't appear her predecessor had really done much prep work leading into this match at all. Nowhere in Miss Joelle Smith's profile did it say anything to indicate she had anything in common with George. Actually, it didn't say much at all. Alicia found herself flipping back through pages full of completely useless information and shaking her head at the state of the casework. No wonder they'd had so many problems matching George, if the other matchmakers were as incompetent as this one appeared to have been!

When she reached George's picture, she stopped and looked at it, suppressing a giggle. It winked at her once again, and her smile softened in remembrance of the real-life version of that expression. It had been a long time since she'd talked to him. She still saw Angelina, but after the war everyone else had sort of drifted his or her separate ways. Not intentionally, of course, but it had just happened that way. She hated to admit that a tiny part of her was actually looking forward to seeing him again, even in this capacity. George was a rogue, no doubt, but he was the sort of scoundrel you couldn't help but love despite his flaws.

With a sigh, she flipped the folder shut and set it back on the table. A large clock on the opposite wall declared that George had only two minutes remaining before he'd be late. Alicia jotted a few notes on the roll of parchment she had smoothed out in front of her and turned her attention back to the table. Habitual lateness was not something she would tolerate in a client, even one as—

She felt her jaw drop.

—devastatingly handsome as the one walking toward the table. Alicia tried to pay careful attention to the mannerisms of the two has they greeted one another and took a seat at the table, but focus was suddenly difficult. She barely recognized the man before her. Gone was the boy who had, back at Hogwarts, simultaneously plagued her every move with pranks and teases and yet inhabited every daydream of her teen life. In his place was a young man whose slightly rugged appearance served to enhance his otherwise clean cut persona. Unlike his date, whose beauty was appealing yet obviously the result of careful planning, George somehow managed to be gorgeous without any evident effort.

_Get a hold on yourself!_ Her subconscious finally managed to worm into her stupor. _This is George Weasley, for Merlin's sake! He broke your fifteen-year-old heart, and he's a client, not a potential date!_

It was that thought that finally snapped her out of the trance of admiration. She was looking forward to speaking to him, more than ever now, but the fact that the years had made him even more attractive meant nothing. This was business; she had a job to complete. She looked back up at him, watching for a few seconds as he smiled at his date, made conversation. For the first time, full realization of her current situation washed over her. Even if George were not her client, if he were remotely interested in her, if she became interested beyond his surprisingly attractive grown-up exterior…she was the first person a competent matchmaker would cross off the list.

Alicia would see to it that George Weasley would find his soul mate, and the one thing she knew for certain was that it would not be her.

**XOXO**

_**Dear Miss Spinnet,**_

_**It is my duty to inform you that due to the results of your recent medical examination, and according to Ministry proclamation number one hundred and ninety-seven, you are hereby ineligible for Ministry-sanctioned marriage until such a time that corrective procedures can prove effective in relieving your condition.**_

_**My sincerest condolences,**_

_**Flavian L. MacPherson**_

_**Chief Administrator**_

_**St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**_


	2. Masks

Chapter Two

Masks

_**How to Date George Weasley, Tip #1: Don't pretend to be something you're not.**_

**XOXO**

"Aren't you hungry?" Joelle asked, sliding the basket of breadsticks a little closer to his side of the table.

George shook his head and smiled. "I'm saving room for dinner. The chefs here are brilliant."

She still hadn't moved from her neutral distance, but there was the slightest lean to her body now, one that indicated her interest in him. The hand she'd had on the breadbasket now lay on the table between them, fingers down and slightly curled. Even the song playing on the wireless seemed to perfectly match his expectations of a good date. It was uncanny.

She casually turned her menu toward him and scooted a few inches closer. "What do you think of the flounder?"

"I've heard good things, but I like the mackerel far too much to ever try it."

As the conversation—light, but appropriately engaging—continued during their wait for the meal, George studied his date even closer, trying hard to see beyond the piece of herself she had so far presented. He certainly liked beautiful girls, and this one was his type, but something about her just bothered him. He couldn't even really place what had tipped him off to the strangeness, but there was definitely something.

Could she be a Ministry official testing his commitment to the program and the reaping of its supposed benefits? He'd had to sign a contract at the start, and it was very specific on the intent and actions of the participants. There were possible legal ramifications to violating that contract, even prison. Was Joelle one of those un-revealed enemies, someone whose sole goal in this date was to send him to Azkaban? Who knew that all those harsh warnings the older guys gave about the dangers of dating could be true?

Then again, he'd signed the contract in _Weasleys' Without A Trace, Disappearing Ink_, so he figured the Wizengamot would have a hard time making a prison sentence stick.

Joelle took a long drink of her red wine and gave George the smile of someone who had experienced deep satisfaction, though he thought of that smile associated with something much bigger than a glass of wine. "You sure you don't want some? It's been ages since I've had a _vin rouge_ with such a lovely amalgam of flavours."

George only just managed to keep himself from raising an eyebrow at the insertion of French. His sister-in-law was allowed. For anyone else, it was completely unnecessary. It was also the first real slip his so-called date had made; anyone who really knew him would know his disdain for pretension, and it didn't take a sophisticated study of his social habits to reveal it. Though Miranda, his absentee matchmaker, had been a little slow to grasp some of his more obvious character traits, so perhaps this was just an honest fault in her choice of a date.

"No, thank you," he answered, eyeing the mostly full bottle suspiciously. If there was something insidious going on with his dinner partner, he definitely didn't trust that wine. Instead, he ordered a glass of water as soon as the waitress came back around. He gave Joelle his most charming smile. "I'd rather keep a clear head so I can take in everything you have to say."

The comment seemed to work somewhat, because she began chattering on again, but her demeanour did not relax at all. Normally, once she was assured of his interest, his date would drop any pretence of formality and really begin conversation. Joelle was talking, but every comment still seemed geared toward hooking him. Or maybe he was just overly critical after the stress of talking through the upcoming Muggle-born Registration Law with Hermione.

While they waited for their food to arrive, George's mind began drifting to his previous dates. He'd met some genuinely nice birds through this program, but none that were even close to his idea of "the one." He wasn't even sure he knew what that meant for him. He needed someone who was as much his friend as his girlfriend, that much he knew, but all of his female mates were just that—friends. Yes, there was that one disastrous date with Alicia back at Hogwarts, but he didn't count that.

He grinned and shook his head, then abruptly shifted his features back to ones appropriate to the conversation. Who was he kidding? Of course he was counting that date with Alicia, disastrous or not. It was the first real date he'd ever had, and he'd learned some valuable lessons about what _not_ to say to a girl.

He'd liked her back then, _really_ liked her, but all that was on his mind in sixth year was the joke shop, and he and Fred both knew they had to be serious about it if they wanted to get anywhere. He had successfully kept himself from really thinking about her for over a year, and then that bloody Yule Ball came up. Fred was taking Angelina, and he couldn't be the twin without the date, so he'd just asked her. What he hadn't realized at the time was that she liked him back. So rather than just explain to her that he had to concentrate on business pursuits, he'd taken the coward's way out and told her he didn't like her that way.

Talk about disasters. Especially since he'd regretted those words ever since.

George had been so caught up in his thoughts and his short-but-appropriate answers to his date that he didn't notice his water had arrived. He took several deep chugs, draining half the glass before turning back to Joelle, shaking Alicia from his mind. "So you were saying, about your enjoyment of pranks?"

Joelle smiled brightly. Her lips curved up perfectly at the edges, as if her face were a carefully detailed painting instead of flesh. "Just that I enjoy your ability to turn something so enjoyable into a viable business. Sure, there have always been pale imitations, but you and your brother have really revolutionized the industry."

He smiled back. It was a statement that could have been carefully constructed to draw him in, yet it was said with such sincerity that he began to doubt his initial impression of the woman. He took another drink to clear his raspy throat. "I honestly think it comes from our desire to avoid pigeon-holing ourselves. We really spread our interests across all arenas of entertainment, not just conventional pranks."

"Exactly!" she said, scooting across the booth so that her leg was nearly touching his. "I'm quite fond of your daydream charms, actually."

"Oh really?" George turned so that he could look directly into her eyes. "Do tell, _mademoiselle_. What has your best daydream been?"

As Joelle talked and then their food arrived, he began to relax. Maybe this date wouldn't be so bad after all.

**XOXO**

"Very attentive. Does not monopolize the conversation," Alicia mouthed as she jotted the words on her parchment. The most important task in taking on a new client was to study his habits, look for both things that would lend themselves to a good match and those that would scare an eligible girl away. If she was going to be successful—and she _was_ going to succeed—then she needed to watch and learn.

Despite her attempt to see George as just a client, and despite all the positive comments she'd written about his behaviour, she could tell he wasn't enjoying himself. He had all the looks and motions of it, but there was something different about him in this setting. At first, she had tried to write it off as her inability to see him as anything but the bloke who'd given her the "just mates" speech back in school, but the more she watched, the more she could really see her old friend, even after all this time. And her old friend did not like his date.

But for a guy who didn't like his date, he was definitely treating Miss Joelle Smith with the utmost respect and attention. Alicia wished _her_ last date had been so courteous. Not that her last date was even recent enough to really count.

"Excuse me, sir," Alicia said to the passing maitre d'. She held up her identification. "Do you have a moment to answer a couple of questions regarding Mr. Weasley?"

The man looked down at her badge and then back at the table where George and Joelle were seated, the latter gesturing boldly over a glass of wine. "Of course, miss." He sat down across from her, folding his hands neatly in front of him. "You must be the new caseworker. My name is Lawrence Charmont, and if you have any problems, bring them to me. We have all the proper protocols in place. The Ministry is a very loyal customer." He winked.

Alicia giggled, warming instantly to the host's open manner. "Alicia Spinnet. Matchmaker Extraordinaire. Do you know anything about the young lady with him? Has she been here with other suitors in the past?"

Lawrence shook his head. "No, I can't say I've ever seen her before. I think I would remember a face like hers."

"Yes, I think most would." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, suddenly conscious of just how frumpy she probably looked in the robes she'd thrown together at the last minute. Businesslike, but probably not date worthy. "And Ge—er Mr. Weasley? He frequents here?"

"Oh yes, and he even often orders take out for himself and his brother on non-date evenings. He's a very kind young man."

Alicia resisted the urge to snicker. "Kind" was not a word she associated with George. She didn't doubt it was true, it just wasn't her first thought. Instead, she just smiled. "So how do you think he's doing this evening, Lawrence? If you had to judge the success of this date against his others, how would you rate it?"

"I'd say above average, actually."

Confused, she looked with him toward her charge's table. Instead of the overly polite man of minutes earlier, now George was cuddled up with Miss Smith as she nipped at his ear and giggled. Alicia felt her face grow hot both from embarrassment at the public display and in anger at being fooled so easily. She didn't like being wrong, but her initial assessment of him had been so far off that she felt like she was looking at a different person.

She immediately started packing her materials into the leather bag she'd lain in the chair at her side. She could feel Lawrence watching her, and she offered him a quick smile, trying hard to drum up an explanation for her rash movements. Somehow teen angst over a very bad date didn't seem quite sufficient enough motivation for apparating into her boss's office tomorrow morning and telling him to shove this job up his—

Something in Alicia's peripheral vision caught her attention. She looked at her tablemate. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" he asked, confused.

She shook her head. Of course he hadn't seen it. She'd been trained to see it, though she never thought she actually would. Even her instructor had laughed off the lesson as required but unnecessary. She dug in her bag and retrieved a small medallion the size of a galleon and handed it to him. Lowering her voice, she said, "We have potential dark wizard activity. I need you to take this outside as casually as possible. A simple activation spell is all it will take, and the Aurors will be here in minutes. It's already keyed to my location."

Lawrence still looked perplexed, but he nodded.

Alicia waved him off. "Go now. I'll do my best to stall."

She watched him go and then looked back at the table where George now had his arm wound around Joelle's waist. She was whispering something in his ear, and he was nodding fervently. Alicia's stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably, and her heart was beating at twice the normal rate, but somehow she got to her feet and started in their direction. It was none too soon, either, as they looked ready to leave any second.

"George!" she called, placing a surprised and happy smile on her lips. Merlin, she hoped he would be happy to see her; otherwise her plan had already failed. She walked right up next to the table, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Lawrence had just made it to the front door. "I haven't seen you in ages! How's Fred?"

George turned to her, unblinking, and smiled. But it wasn't his lack of eye movements that let her know just how right she had been about the situation: it was Joelle's—if that was even her real name—look of complete disgust and anger. George was under the influence of something, probably a potion, and from the looks of him, it was probably a strong one. She hoped the Aurors hurried, because even the most innocuous love potion could be lethal when dosed incorrectly, and Alicia had no idea what this woman had given him.

"Alicia Spinnet," said George slowly, speech almost slurred. He looked at his date and then back at Alicia. "Wow. Alicia. This is Alicia. We went on a date once. I was a bloody idiot then, I was. Told her—"

"So George, what have you been up to?" she asked quickly. The last thing she needed was for him to broadcast the biggest embarrassment of her Hogwarts years to the whole restaurant, especially the snake of a woman next to him. She didn't want _Miss Smith_ to even have the satisfaction of having a real date with George, however she had conspired to get it, when Alicia's had been such a colossal disaster. So George hadn't been attracted to her. But to say he was an idiot for going to the ball with her?

She still wanted to slug him, despite his current state.

"I'm on a date with Joelle," answered George, leaning back to stare at the other woman with dog-like affection. He picked up his glass and drained the last of his water, but when he tried to set it down, it slipped out of his hand and toppled over. His movements were sluggish as he pointed toward the door. "We're going. Back to her place."

"Yes, that's right," interjected Joelle, her voice icy. "We were just on our way out, so if you'll excuse us."

George tried to stand, but his legs gave out and he sank to the floor by the booth. Alicia made the tiniest little move, but the other woman must have caught it, because she immediately reached for her wand. Luckily, Alicia was ready for her, and she summoned all of the training she'd received in the D.A. for that single second of motion.

"_Expelliarmus! Incarcerous!_" she shouted, swishing her wand with such ferocity that she nearly lost hold of it. Suddenly she was holding the woman's wand, and many of the other patrons were gawking at her as if she were Voldemort incarnate standing in their midst.

"Freeze! Drop your wand or we will use force," came a voice from behind her.

Relief flooded through her at the sound. She dropped both wands and turned slowly to face the Aurors, and to her surprise, she recognized a face among the three who'd been sent. "Harry! It's George. He's under the influence of some sort of love potion. I think she gave him too much, though. He's fading pretty fast."

The Aurors rushed at her, Harry in the lead, and she took the expression on her friend's face to mean she wasn't under suspicion any longer. She dropped to her knees next to George, grabbing his head and turning it to face her. "George, can you hear me?"

He looked up at her with a silly expression, eyes still wide and showing little movement. "Fred," he said, voice soft, "I'm having that dream about Alicia again."

Alicia felt herself blushing at the idea that George's dreams about her might have been similar to some of hers about him. It was ridiculous, but her heart leapt a little at the idea anyway. Then Harry was at her side waving his wand over George's starry-eyed expression.

"Did you see it happen? Are you sure it was a potion?"

She shook her head. "I didn't see it, but he's got all the classic signs of a love potion poisoning."

Next to them the other Aurors had Joelle in custody and were casting a few spells of their own. "Polyjuiced," they said after a moment. "From the looks of it, she doesn't have long left. We'll unmask her soon enough."

Alicia looked back at Harry, his brow furrowed in concentration. He mumbled a few more words, and then his mouth slipped into a frown. "Bloody hell. It's _Pandora's Blend_. Where the hell did she get that? The antidote takes ages to brew. I hope St. Mungo's has it in stock." He started to lift George into his arms.

"Wait," said Alicia. "I may be able to help." She grabbed her wand from the floor at her feet and turned back toward her former table. "_Accio Kit!_"

A large piece of leather that was folded upon itself flew across the room, narrowly missing the heads of entranced patrons. She snatched it neatly out of the air and opened it, spreading its length out on the floor. The third section contained a whole selection of potions, from Pepper Up to contraceptives to—she scanned quickly—love potion antidotes. Thank Merlin. She plucked out the appropriate vial and handed it to him.

"Two drops should do it."

Harry gave her a strange look before tipping George's head back and tapping two drops into his slack mouth. While they waited the required minute for the antidote to take effect, he looked over at her and grinned. "Nice to see you again, Spinnet. You mind telling me what's going on here? And why are you carrying _Pandora's _antidote on you?"

**XOXO**

George woke up to Alicia Spinnet hovering over him. He blinked a few times, but the image didn't go away like it usually did; however, she also didn't kiss him. He was sure he hadn't just been in a Quidditch accident, since his mind was lucid enough to let him know he was several years out of school, and also because she wasn't wearing a uniform. So why was Alicia leaning over him and looking very happy to see him?

Then Harry came into view, and George sat up so quickly that he was light-headed once he righted himself. "Wh--what happened?" He shook his head, trying to clear it further as he looked between his two old friends. Then it came to him. "She drugged me! It was in the water. I don't know how she got it there, but it had to be. I didn't touch anything else."

"We know, George. It's all right. Harry's just given you the antidote."

Alicia was rubbing his arm soothingly, but he really wished she wouldn't. It was already an effort to keep his mind in the Faded Rose Cantina where the rest of him was, rather than in lingering thoughts of her soothing his injuries after a particularly brilliant Quidditch play. Trying to lose the mental pictures he was getting, he turned around, searching the small crowd for his date. Instead he saw his matchmaker held tightly between two Aurors he didn't recognize, her hands bound.

"Miranda? What? Why?" he stuttered, completely confused. He turned back to Alicia. "What's happening?" Then he looked at Harry. "And what are you doing here? Don't you have someone you should be keeping company?"

"Hermione wanted some time alone," said Harry in hushed tones, "and working always helps me clear my head." He pointed to Miranda and spoke aloud again. "Your former matchmaker seems to have a bit of a grudge against you for losing her job."

George looked at Miranda, confused. "You lost your job? Why?"

"Because you are impossible to please," the woman spat, jerking against the solid hold of her two guards. "Even under the strongest love potion available you can't be charmed. All it took was this harlot walking up for me to lose my hold. Well, she can have you. Closest she'll get to a date anytime soon, anyway."

The Aurors gave Harry a look and the apparated away with their prisoner. George faced the two remaining people, his eyebrows scrunched up in bewilderment. "But wait, if she's no longer my matchmaker, then who—?"

Alicia handed him a card and gave him a nervous-looking smile. "Alicia Spinnet, Ministry-Certified Matchmaker, at your service. I look forward to taking you on as a client in hopes of finding your perfect love match as soon as possible. Please stop by my office at your convenience tomorrow, and we'll discuss our plan of action."

And then she turned and left the restaurant.

George blinked a few times—his eyes felt really dry, for some reason—and then looked at Harry, who shrugged. "You done with me, mate? Good. You know where to find me if you need me." And then he dashed out the door without waiting for a response.

"Alicia, wait!" he called as soon as he'd cleared the restaurant, hoping to catch her before she could apparate away. He didn't get an immediate response, but he scanned the Sunday evening crowd until he spotted her. He called again, "Alicia!"

She finally heard him and turned back, to him, waiting for him to catch up to her. He couldn't tell from her expression whether she was pleased he'd followed her or not. "What is it George? I've had a really long day, and I'd just like to get back to my flat and take a long shower."

"Need company?" he said with a wink as he reached her. At her look, his smile softened. "Look, I haven't gotten to talk to you in a really long time. Can't a bloke at least say 'thank you' for saving his life and all?"

Alicia smiled a little. "You're welcome, George." She turned to go again.

"Wait!" He didn't know why she was in such a hurry to leave him. Had the love potion left some hideous marks or something? He swiped his hand across his face to be on the safe side, but everything was in its right place. "Are you really my new matchmaker?"

She sighed and looked back at him, hands on her hips. "That's what it says on the card, isn't it?"

George couldn't help it—he burst out laughing. When she reacted by huffing and continuing to walk, he leapt forward and caught her arm. "I'm sorry, it's just…not what I expected, you know?"

"No, I don't know." She jerked her arm away.

"Good student, excellent chaser, and you go into matching? Not exactly a career I'd envisioned for you is all."

She laughed derisively. "Oh, so now you're the judge of what I should do with my life? Maybe there was a time when I would have cared what you thought, but school is long over, George. You barely know me."

George opened his mouth, but she interrupted him before he could speak.

"You know, I don't think it's such a nice night for a walk after all. I'll see you at my office tomorrow, unless this is too much of a joke for you." Then she turned on her heel and apparated.

He sighed. "I've missed you."

He kicked a large rock, narrowly missing a small child clinging to his mum's skirts. Then, running a hand through his hair, he followed her example.

Once in the comfort of his bedroom, he settled in for some rest, but sleep wouldn't come. Alicia's face kept dancing in his head. He felt a little guilty for laughing at her, but really, she was the one who had subscribed to the Ministry propaganda that the program was a good idea in the first place. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he would have called anyone who told him a liar. Now he wasn't sure what to think. What had happened to his best girlfriend? And why hadn't he been around to know?

Turning over in bed, he pulled his pillow tight around his head. He did know one thing: he had a mission, and acknowledging any sort of ridiculous lingering feelings he had for Alicia would get him nowhere. She'd taken him by surprise, made him lose his composure, but tomorrow it was back to business.

He hoped.

* * *

Author's Note:

Long time coming, I know. In short - work was slammed and then I broke my wrist, so typing is difficult at the moment. Still, I'm pretty please at how this chapter came out. Longer than normal. :-)

Check out my profile and my livejournal (homepage link) for up-to-date info on upcoming updates and progress.


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